


The World Recentred

by Anam_Writes



Series: princes love dragons; it's just a fact [8]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gift Exchange, Golden Gift Exchange, Miscarriage, Post-Apocalypse, Pregnancy, Suggestive Themes, no beta; we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anam_Writes/pseuds/Anam_Writes
Summary: “What’s your name?” He asked, putting an arm around her and making sure she was protected snuggly from the sandy winds.“Byleth.” She said.She did not ask his name but he volunteered Claude to her without any prompting.“Do you have a place to go?” He asked.And he knew the answer. There was nowhere to go, anywhere to be, anyone to meet. All the same he waited until she shook her head to start guiding her down the trodden path home.“I have a place,” he told her. “And it’s safe. Mostly.”
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: princes love dragons; it's just a fact [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610308
Comments: 19
Kudos: 166
Collections: The Golden Gifts - Claudeleth Fic/Art Exchange





	The World Recentred

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liripip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liripip/gifts).



The moment he saw her - a stumbling, naked mess against clear blue sky and, cracked red earth - his world recentred. She was moving flesh marred by dirt. She was fumbling breaths of hot air taken too quickly. She was blood and muscle and life beneath all that. 

He ran to her, even as he knew the holey soles of his boots couldn’t take that. Even as he felt his pants tear at the knee when he tripped, fell and then just kept on running. He shrugged the leather jacket, he was so proud of the condition of, off his shoulders and threw it around her bare torso without a second thought. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, putting an arm around her and making sure she was protected snuggly from the sandy winds.

“Byleth.” She said. 

She did not ask his name but he volunteered Claude to her without any prompting. 

“Do you have a place to go?” He asked. 

And he knew the answer. There was nowhere to go, anywhere to be, anyone to meet. All the same he waited until she shook her head to start guiding her down the trodden path home. 

“I have a place,” he told her. “And it’s safe. Mostly.”

…

Claude hadn’t seen a person in ten years. Claude hadn’t seen a woman in fifteen. 

One couldn’t blame him for being a little eager.

He apologized for the state of his camp, cleaned animal bones not yet finding a use in the corner. Empty jars in another. His tent was filled with clothes waiting to be washed when next he could make a trip to the spring for water, (for now what was left was all sectioned off for drinking and bathing) and a mess of blankets unfolded about the ground.

“I bury the food stash to keep the coyotes off it,” he told her. “But I can dig it up if you’re hungry.”

Byleth nodded. 

He certainly wished he’d found a more talkative person after all the years of nothing. But he couldn’t be too picky. He tried not to be too judgemental, either. Who knew what she had seen.

Claude dug up his food and ate polite little bits as she wolfed it all down. His cooking was fine but she acted like it was the best thing in the world, moaning around every bite. She must have been starved. 

Two tins of canned peaches and a bit of cooked meat later and she was passed out on his cot. 

Claude took the floor. He could at least remember that was the polite thing to do.

…

Silence he initially chalked up to shock turned out to be nature. 

Byleth was a quiet girl. She helped him clean when asked. She helped him hunt when asked. She swept through the crumpling town ruins at the base of the mountain when asked. She was even adept at most of these things, managing to find herself a decent wardrobe instead of his oversized shirts, make a few clean kills and bring in as much supplies as the two needed. 

But she never contributed many words. It was all yes, no, hello, goodbye with her. 

About two weeks in, when he chattered over to her while scraping through old trash to find anything useful she broke that trend. 

“Claude,” she said.

He turned to her, eyes wide, smile steady. “Yes?”

“I like hearing your voice.”

It was the most she’d said since he’d met her and a sign of better to come. On occasion she would start to say new things too.

“It’s not too useful but it’s pretty,” she said once when she brought back some mostly untorn sheer curtains from an apartment complex. 

“I like the peaches,” she told him, when he was deciding whether to open up a can of those or to cook some peas. 

“If we leave it out in the sun long enough, we could make some booze,” was her best input yet.

Time went on and he found he was knowing her better. 

He finally got the courage to ask. 

“Where did you come from?” He whispered over the gap of the bigger bed they’d made up for the convenience of two. 

She turned around, came to lie closer to him, closer than she’d ever really been. 

In the dark he could still make out the fine glow of green hair and eyes. He wondered if her cheeks were as warm, as red as his were growing. 

“I woke up alone on a chair, in a room beneath the mountain,” she said. “And when I walked out I saw a castle over my head. I don’t remember anything else.”

Claude sighed. “No others, then?”

“No others,” she said. 

Claude didn’t sleep well that night. That was far from the answer he was hoping for. 

…

“Why aren’t there any people, Claude?” Byleth asked. 

“I’m not sure,” Claude shrugged. “Baba - my father, that is - told me a story about angry spirits. The hubris of man caused it, all that jazz.”

“Is there another version of the story?” She asked. 

The road to the spring was long and so he didn’t mind retreading old ground for her entertainment. Still, it took him a second to tell her the next theory, his mother’s face flashing before his eyes. 

“My mother told me there was a Goddess, that she died and with her death the continent followed,” he said. “Not sure about that one either.”

“What do you think is true?” Byleth asked. 

“There was an old lady once, a really old one who passed through back when my parents were still alive,” he said. “She was old enough that her mother had been alive before - _before_ before, I mean. She told her stories and she said that people found an ancient underground city. She said there were weapons underneath there and that, when war came, some decided to use them. She said everyone lost.”

“You believe that?” Byleth asked. 

“I believe it more than the other two,” he said. “I don’t know why. It just...rings true, I suppose.”

…

Byleth liked the spring. Claude kind of figured she would. How could anyone not?

Water ran freely from the underground and a little bit of grass and weeds littered the rock bed alongside it. 

“Green,” she huffed, sitting down and running her fingers through the tufts of it. “It’s nice.”

“Just don’t eat it,” he warned her. “The weeds aren’t safe.”

Claude filled some waterskins and put them in his pack. He had Byleth sort out the bottles for bathing. Then he grabbed the jug and the laundry and cleaned the clothes right there with sand. 

Overall, it was a productive day. 

It cooled down that night, more than usual, even. Claude wrapped himself up in a blanket and threw one Byleth’s way as well. She opted instead to slither beneath his arm, tuck her head in his shoulder and wrap her arms around his waist. 

“I wish there were more green,” she said, dozing away with him. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

Sleep came easier that night. 

…

"Claude!" He heard her screaming in the morning. 

He scrambled from the cot. He grabbed his bow and crashed out the tent into the blazing morning. 

He was ready for a fight but instead saw a smile. 

The sun rose over the flat horizon behind her. Her smile glowed more than the halo of pink dawn in her wake. 

It was the first time he'd seen her smile. It had been a long time since he'd seen joy on another face but, even still, he was sure it was never so beautiful as this. 

"Look," she said, pointing to the ground. 

A daisy was sprouting, clear as day, at her feet. It had a little white bulb, the rich green stem. It did not look dried or thirsty or wanting for anything at all. 

It was a miracle.

Claude went back inside and, with much care, came out to drizzle a little drinking water on the precious thing. 

"It's amazing," she said. 

He could see a single tear come to run down her soft, dusty cheek. He reached out to brush it away. 

"You're amazing," he said. 

Byleth looked up at him and before the gentle touch of her lips he remembered green glowing eyes, brighter than even the desert sun had ever managed to be. 

…

The daisy kept growing. Eventually more sprouted too. Grass spread with that and, eventually, Claude and Byleth had a bit of a lawn going. 

Claude brought the blankets out onto the 'lawn' and promised to show Byleth his favourite thing one night. 

"Besides me," she had remarked, not teasing, just honest.

And he had figured that went without saying. Still, hearing it made his face warmer than he wanted. 

They lay side-by-side, hands entwined, as dusk turned to night and dottings of stars began to show. 

"They're beautiful," Byleth said, eyes dancing between them. 

"They are," he agreed. "And would you believe there used to be more of them you could see? The debris from city lights linger, even after a century. But once there were enough to draw pictures in the sky. Once there were even so many, people claimed they could read them to see the future."

"I wish we could have seen that," she said. 

Claude nodded. "I wish we could have too. I bet there'd be a picture of you up there somewhere for me."

"Claude," Byleth swatted at him. "You're embarrassing me."

"Good," he rolled over, pecking her cheek. "I think you deserve to be a little embarrassed every once in a while."

She smiled. She'd been doing that a lot more recently. Claude found himself entranced by it every time he saw. 

She was breathtaking. 

"You're just upset you're a blusher and I'm not," and he swore she was pouting. 

"I think I know a way to make you blush," he whispered, though they were the only people in their little world who could hear. 

"Really?" She asked. "Please, show me."

…

It was like he'd only ever seen the sky through clouds before, the next night. 

Claude could identify every part he'd ever read about in old books: the western constellations during spring, the galaxy's next arm stretching out and around them, the dazzling of distant stars long dead in shades of white, blue, violet and red. 

"It's like you said," Byleth smiled, holding his hand as they walked back to the camp with new scraps in their packs. "They make pictures in the sky. Do you think you can read them?"

"Oh, sure I can," Claude laughed. "They say congratulations on landing a woman way out of your league."

"You're lying," Byleth said flatly. 

Claude shrugged. "So, what if I am? Can you read them better?"

Byleth took a gander, eyes squinting as she looked up. "They say to expect a gift soon."

Claude grinned ear-to-ear. "I'll expect the stars to deliver on that promise. 

…

In a moon, they discovered that the stars had not lied to Byleth. After nine months of hardship and redistributing the work around camp to accommodate Byleth's condition, she gave birth to the next miracle to enter their lives. 

It was not an easy birth but it was typical to what Claude had managed to scavenge up on the subject. Both mother and daughter came out healthy and that was the greatest gift Claude could ever ask for. 

"What should we name her?" Byleth asked. 

Claude had been flipping through books of baby names looking for that answer precisely. He had a few highlighted, since Byleth hadn't been able to decide either. 

"Celeste, Eden, Stella," Claude offered the first on his list. 

"They all sound like old woman names," Byleth dismissed. "What else?"

"Marsha, Hannah, Kate," he went on. 

"No."

Claude turned the page to his next list. "Deborah, Shaya, An - " 

"Wait," Byleth stopped him. "What was that second one?"

"Shaya," he repeated, before flipping through some notes. "Ah, yes. That one is Almyran. It means 'gift of God.'"

Byleth nodded. "A gift. Yes. Shaya it is."

Claude closed his notebook and came to sit beside Byleth and the newest person in his life. "Shaya."

…

For the next few months the jobs they had were a bit more clearly delineated. Claude kept Byleth fed so she could keep Shaya fed. And Shaya needed a lot of feeding. 

Morning and night her parents fretted over her needs. Morning and night Claude fretted over Byleth's needs. They went sleepless for long periods of time, became grouchier with one another than they had ever been before. 

But when Byleth regained her energy, Shaya started to sleep through the night and then she started to teeth, they found a little bit of relief. 

Claude and Byleth secured a small cloth, thoroughly clean and then soaked in Byleth's milk for the baby to chew on. They weaned her slowly onto softer foods, like the preserved peaches all crushed up, or crushed up corn mixed in with cream. 

As she grew older - started to waddle with the help of her Mama and Baba on either side of her - she took to enjoying porridge. Claude started to default to that for dinner, knowing he could throw whatever fruits he could find in there very easily. Sometimes he could even convince her to eat a bit of meat on the side. 

"She's the most perfect baby in the world," Claude said of her. 

"She may be the only baby in the world," Byleth retorted. "Unless we have another, that is."

Claude waved his hand, raised his brows, unconcerned. "We got lucky with Shaya. We shouldn't tempt fate."

"I just worry," Byleth sighed. "You were alone for so long after your parents passed. If they had made you a sibling - "

"They did," Claude said. "They tried. Multiple times. Babies are fragile things. Eventually all that trying, for my sake, proved too much for my mother. Let's just focus on keeping Shaya safe and healthy, Byleth."

She did not bring it up again for the time being. 

Claude was grateful for that. 

…

The lawn got bigger. Much bigger.

Claude wasn't even sure the title of lawn - not matter how joking it was - could be accurate anymore. 

Within only a few years the desert folding over their view became a field. Animals Claude had never seen before sprouted, as if from nowhere. Rain started to fall, air started to feel fresh in his lungs. 

It didn't seem possible and yet. And yet. 

Byleth started to watch the animals. She was always a better observer than him - a little bit quieter, stiller, more patient. 

"Animals keep trying to steal the eggs," Byleth pointed out to him about a wild chicken who had made her nest nearby. "What if we caught her and fed her? She lays every couple days. What if we fed her, kept her close and collected them? It would be a consistent protein source."

Claude and Byleth do just that. Having secured corn, grain and other goodies they think she might like.

It took weeks, but eventually the chicken started to stick close. She made a nest near them and didn't even seem to mind when Shaya chased her round the camp giggling. In fact, she seemed to think it's fun. 

Claude found it's much easier to get Shaya to eat fresh, cooked eggs than it is to try to get her to eat meat. He saw the difference in her strength levels go up and she hit the longest growth spurt he'd seen her have shortly after. 

The fertile land beside the spring starts growing new things too. Byleth pointed out berries in the bushes and Claude went about the careful job of identifying them.

The white ones were poisonous so he scattered them near the food store in hopes of killing and warning off potential scavengers. The blue ones were edible and Shaya and Byleth took a particular liking to them. 

The family's life, overall, was peaceful. The world was healthier than it had been before. 

Maybe that's why he agreed. Maybe that's why he felt so sure, so secure in the decision when Byleth came to him again. 

"Wouldn't you love another?" She asked. "Wouldn't you feel so much better with a little sibling to keep Shaya company?"

He would. 

He really would. 

…

The second pregnancy was not so easy. 

Shaya needed tending, and so did the ever-growing array of livestock: the chickens and their one little goat they'd found with a sprained ankle. 

Byleth was on her feet more often and for longer than she'd been with their firstborn. She complained of abdominal pain much earlier. She spotted on their sheets in the night at times and though Claude felt her vitals to ensure it was alright it all boded ill. 

He told her so. 

His mother had such signs many times. 

They were prepared when they woke in the night to their cot wet and sticky. Byleth cried tired tears and Claude hushed her while he cleaned up and tended to everything. 

He told Shaya in the morning to bring Mama her breakfast, that she was feeling sick and that she should give her the biggest hug she can. 

Byleth laid there for days. 

The flowers in the fields wilted. The rain stopped. The grass began to die. The chicken did not lay eggs. The goat's milk went dry. 

Claude was sleeping, Shaya lying on his chest, when he heard the first pitter patter of rain in a week. 

Gentle as can be, Claude shifted his daughter into her own bed beside theirs and stepped outside. 

Byleth stood in the rain, eyes to the daisy in full bloom at her feet. 

Claude said nothing. He was not sure what he had to say. 

"After so many miracles," she said. "I should have known I was going to run out."

Claude wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against his chest. 

"You are a miracle, Byleth," he told her. "You're a walking miracle that never ceases."

She clung to his damp clothes and cried into his chest. 

The grass turned greener, slowly. The rain came back more frequently. The chickens and goat resumed their production. Even the little garden they were starting came out of it alright. 

Claude knew not all was right, but it was better. Things would get better again. 

…

"Are there other people, Mama?" Shaya asked while she sat in her mother's knee by the fire. 

"There used to be lots and lots of people," Byleth answered. "But one day the people got into a fight and they decided to use a bad weapon they found underground. It made the world into a desert and made most of the people disappear. We don't know if there are others but we're the only ones here now."

Shaya nods, looking into the fire her father cooks over, brows scrunched in a face of concentration, trying to piece it together. 

"I don't think that's what happened at all," Claude chuckled. 

"Are you saying Mama's wrong?" Shaya gasped. "Mama's never wrong! You told me so!"

"I think Mama's been misinformed. That's Baba's fault," he says. "You see, the truth is that once there was a Goddess. She died and with her death so died the earth. The world was all desert. I was alive when it was. It was barren, and empty and lonely without the Goddess."

Shaya blinked. "It's not like that now."

"That's because a new Goddess was born," Claude said. "And one by one she made the world less lonely, filled it with bounty and beauty and brought life back into it."

Byleth blushed, holding her daughter closer. "Don't listen. Baba is being silly."

"But I'm not," Claude gestures around the field. "How could the world heal more in less than a decade than it did in a century?"

Byleth sighed. "Believe what you want, Shaya. But your father is being silly."

Claude winked as his daughter extricated herself from Byleth's lap. The little girl ran off, not a care in the world and Byleth smiled. 

"You don't really think all that, do you?" She laughed.

"I do," he nodded. "Every word."

Byleth shifted to sit beside him as he cooked. 

"You think I can do it?" She said, eyes shining brightly, smiling as beautifully as the first time she had. "You think I can bring the world back to life?"

"I don't have a doubt in my mind," Claude said. 

The moment she laid her head on his shoulder, the world recentred. She was still flesh bathed by sunlight. She was steady breaths of fresh, eternal spring air taken quietly. She was blood and muscle and life beneath all that.

And she was going to share her life with the world.


End file.
